


Pâquerette (Without Me)

by flickerdaniel



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Acceptance, Break Up, Depression, Drug Addiction, Forgiveness, Heartbreak, Love, M/M, No Character Death, Recovery, good ending I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16188179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flickerdaniel/pseuds/flickerdaniel
Summary: When Dan and Phil split, Phil finds himself being lost without Dan by his side. In a downward spiral of depression and drugs, he realises that true love doesn't necessarily have to last forever.Based on the song Pâquerette (Without Me) by With Confidence.





	Pâquerette (Without Me)

**Author's Note:**

> I am in no way pinpointing Dan or Phil's sexualities or mental health, or claiming that phan is real. This is written solely for the purpose of entertainment for both me and the readers.
> 
> Enjoy!

At first it hurt a lot. Phil could barely breathe at the mention of Dan's name or the thought of that soft, chocolate coloured mop of curls that grew so perfectly top of his head. Those large hands and feet that, at times, intimidated Phil quite a lot. Those deep, beautiful and incredible dimples that shone nothing but happiness. All those things that made Dan Dan. Phil missed all of them.

There were times where Phil didn't miss them all too much. Those times were usually at night. Because at night, he was haunted by the memories. The void slowly but surely forming in the pit of his stomach. A void desperate of being filled, thus sucking all happiness out of him, depriving him of sleep and draining him of all energy.

The aftermath of those nights were almost worse. The unbearable sadness spreading throughout his body and the throbbing pain in his head. He'd make a cup of tea or coffee to mend the pain. It never quite did work the way he wanted, though.

It came to the point where he would do anything to avoid those nights. Therapy, meditation, hypnosis. He tried everything and yet he couldn't seem to find anything to help put his mind to rest. That was when he got ahold of the tiny plastic bag containing a, then, unfamiliar, white powder. He had paid a ton. It probably wasn't the best decision but, at that point, he was desperate. Desperate for a good night's sleep. Desperate for a few hours of no worries. Desperate for a tiny bit of happiness, even if it meant putting his life to risk. Because he was risking it being sad, too, wasn't he?

He reminded himself of that each time he dragged his nose across his coffee table and held his finger to his itching nose to relieve some of the irritation. As time went on, he kept on doing it more and more until his body no longer functioned without it. Withdrawals were a pain for everyone but for Phil, they were literal  _pain_. They hurt more with each dose he took. The pain in his chest no longer remained.

The peak of his solo career was the lowest point of his life. Two meetings a day, one (preferably two) videos, one liveshow, five tweets a week, and dinner with important people every Friday. It was so much easier back when Dan was a part of his career (and life.) Then he would have someone to keep him on his toes and calm him down from a panic attack. Now, Phil was all alone in this, and he had no idea what to do. He was busy every waking hour; he couldn't even take a day off to meet up with his mum. His packed up schedule kept him from living. Some mornings he didn't have time to inject the white substance through his nose. So he resorted to taking pills. 3-5 times a day he would unscrew the white cap and shake two pills into the palm of his hand.

It felt as though he was no longer living. He was just existing. He was dwelling on the past, and letting chemicals get the best of him. But all he could think about was the pain. Because it hurt. God, it hurt so much.

He remembers that one time in that one coffee shop. He remembers the familiar scent surrounding his nostrils. He remembers the knot tying in the pit of his stomach. He remembers the unbearable pressure he suddenly felt against his chest. He remembers storming out of the usually honey-smelling cocoon of coziness, without a doubt catching many stares.

It had been bold of him to think that he could just go back. Pretend that that place didn't hold a thousand memories of the very man he was trying to forget.

It was the place they had shared their first meal, second hug and kiss. However, it was also the place they shared their last fight and conversation before parting ways.

The place was their comfort; the place they would seek when things got rough. The place they would seek when they felt as though the whole world was against them. The place they would seek when needing to get things off their chest without any great chaos erupting. Just the two of them, whilst the rest of the world was carrying their heads under their arms, completely oblivious to the love, banter and mayhem in the air as they walked by the two men.

That coffee shop started their relationship, stabilised it, and tore it to pieces.

Phil had ended that day by shaking three pills into his hand.

When they first met, neither of them knew that this was where they were going to end up; Phil living by himself in a flat a little outside of London with no names in his phone book that sparked his interest, relying on drugs to make it through everyday, and Dan living in a house in Southampton, loving a man who isn't Phil.

Needless to say, Phil loved and needed Dan more than he'd bargained for, but Dan was no longer there to keep him sane. He just had to accept that.

Phil wasn't sure if he ever could.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated!


End file.
